Of Amber and Sand
by Sam-Sam-Samedi
Summary: Death is a difficult journey. Lady Svala and Sigmund centric.


**Title: **Of Amber and Sand

**Summary: **Death is a difficult journey. [Lady Svala and Sigmund centric.]

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**AN: **Spoilers, of course-- and a slight pinch of one-sided Svala/Volsung, because, "who keeps a guy's ring damn near twenty years after his death and doesn't feel the least bit strange?" ( . . . Ah, it's hard to think of Sigmund as a jewelry-loving type. Oo; Haha, he has bling. XD;;)

Infinite Undiscovery is the property of Square.

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The hall is an empty stretch of teal that blurs to soft green, shadowed by amber as candelabras ripple up the walls like vines. They blossom to explosions of color while moonlight whispers past the royal banisters and springs into the gloom, leaving the Lady Svala to watch the stars choke against the cloudy horizon.

The aristos are ageless and eternal, perhaps deserving of death-- she looks nearly as young as she did when he was at her heels, and it leaves her poisoned. He was alive then, she thinks brokenly, when Casandra's kingdom was a candle flickering pale white and blue against the shores. With all the dignity of a monarch, he stole away to her palace and swore service to Halgita's future empress-- herself, more than a century ago. She feels the tug of his old, somber smile, and slips unto the balcony.

The wind dances up her skin, her skirts tossed like flames at her ankles while the sea writhes in the distance. Veros painted mountains at Casandra's borders, their earth his canvas, and she could remember how it glowed in its gilded age. Even in the shadow of its crags, Casandra was a golden silhouette somewhere beyond the marshes.

Volsung was regal even in youth: _'Look to the east, Empress. Call for Casandra's aid, and he shall return for you.' _It was said in passing, and became something akin to a covenant that bound their countries' to peace. She thinks of Sigmund, walking like his ghost beneath the limelight, and listens as Halgita gurgles in the night-- yells chorus "Cheers for Sigmund!" in the lower layers, still alive even long after its brethren sleep. He carries the same bearing, same grins and talent. The longing is there, because-- and some quiet part of Lady Svala is aware-- changing the body does not change the soul. Sigmund wanders her halls, and so Volsung cannot have his solace.

The moon hangs like a beacon in the sky, and its chains shimmer a wicked white, as though made of pearl and sapphire. It is beautiful, even as the creation of unsound minds-- as a vestige of her Leonid and Volsung. Lady Svala runs a finger across the stone railing, and thinks its fated that Casandra is their final stage. She understands her broken sons, and their chains-- she, too, fears the future as they both barrel towards destruction. As a mother, she wants to keep them both, but as an old woman she remembers Volsung.

Like Leonid, the Lady Svala can understand madness. Sigmund will leave to ease her pain as her son, and return as something different, whereas Leonid will cry out for god to give him a purpose. She has raised such lonely, crippled children in Volsung's name.

"Empress Svala," it is rough, and too deep to belong to him, "You would not greet me upon my return?" She turns to meet his shadow again and again, she realizes. His face is framed by auburn, with eyes that spark like dying embers. They are barely brown, and have a rusty tint.

"No, I would not," she says finally, although her voice is gentle. He is so painfully familiar.

"I have considered the Lunar rite," Sigmund manages quietly, and Lady Svala is courageous enough to look at him, "If you will . . . Please come, Empress. I must speak with you."

She says nothing as she follows him into the bedchamber, and watches as he awkwardly seats himself, ". . . Sigmund, you are so cold this evening."

"It is difficult," he murmurs solemnly, "That I must leave her Majesty so shortly."

"Yes," the Lady forces herself to answer, "You will liberate the ensnared moon. That was . . . your decision." It's enough to break another woman, but she knows she stood tall as she buried her husband's coffin and son's memory. There is nothing in her to leave in pieces now.

"Empress," Sigmund's reply is uncertain as she comes to his side, "Do I displease you?"

"No, that is not it," she reaches out to touch him, and her heart flutters as she drowns in his soul. It's ancient and reborn, weighed with all of Volsung's regret. Lady Svala finds no words to console herself, and waits for her tears to come as the ghost returns to the body. Sigmund-- Volsung is whole, she muses sadly, and has still left her fractured. "Promise me that I shall welcome you again. That . . . you shall return to my Halgita."

He makes no effort to respond, ". . . I promise to destroy every chain. I shall return alive . . . Will you trust me, Empress?" She cradles him then, calls him a child or a friend, and knows she cannot. He, too, will return only to earth and sand, as his destiny commands.

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**AN:** Hmmm. Hopefully this is accurate enough. Anyway, read and review, please.


End file.
